There's A Truth In Your Eyes
by Jennifer Hart
Summary: A crossover with the Thoroughbred series for the NCIS June 2006 Challenge. Two people are taken hostage one evening in a convenience store in fall of 1991.
1. Terror

**Title: There's A Truth In Your Eyes**

**Rating: T**

**Classification: Suspense/Angst**

**Spoilers: NCIS – Hiatus and Witness. Thoroughbred – Breaking The Fall, Allie's Legacy, Calamity Jinx, and Legacy's Gift, although this story is set before all of the above.**

**Disclaimers: I don't own NCIS, I don't own Thoroughbred, and I don't own the convenience store with the bullet-riddled ceiling. (For which I'm truly thankful – that repair cost would be astronomical)**

**Summary: A crossover with the Thoroughbred series for the NCIS June 2006 Challenge. Two people are taken hostage one evening in a convenience store in fall of 1991.**

**A/N for Thoroughbred readers: I have had to take some liberties with the year timelines in order to fit this into the NCIS universe. Also, Jilly would have probably been sick with leukemia during this time period, but having known someone dying of cancer, I cannot handle writing about that. So for this story's purposes, consider her in remission.**

Bullet holes riddled the ceiling. Christina Reese whirled at the sound of the gunfire, dropping the container of milk she was holding. It splattered in all directions, drenching the linoleum. Someone shoved her to the floor.

"Keep still," a man's voice whispered in her ear. The 13-year-old nodded, terrified and the man shifted slightly to one side, but still keeping most of his body draped over hers.

"Give me all the money in the registers! Now!" The voice came from somewhere across the room, but she couldn't see precisely where over the rows of shelves in front of her. And after the gunfire, not to mention whoever had taken her to the ground, she had no intention of raising her head enough to look.

_I should never have volunteered to go get the milk_, Christina thought. She and her mother had been helping Jilly Gordon-Avery cook dinner in the woman's California kitchen, when they'd realized the milk had soured before it's due date. Jilly, an old friend of Christina's mother Ashleigh from their days as jockeys, hadn't wanted to leave because she was expecting more company for dinner, a nephew-in-law or something like that. Christina had volunteered to go instead. And walked into a nightmare.

A sob caught in her throat at the irony. She'd been having nightmares almost every night for the past three weeks, ever since she'd taken a scary fall while training steeplechase with her horse, Sterling Dream. Christina had hit her head and briefly lost consciousness. She hadn't been able to practice steeplechase since without feeling like she was about to get sick to her stomach. It was part of why her mother had pressed her to come along on the visit to Jilly, hoping that time away would help Christina with her fears.

_Well, it's certainly done that_, Christina thought bitterly. At that moment, she would give anything to be back on Samantha Nelson's steeplechasing course. Not that it mattered anymore, since she was probably never going to get the chance to be out there again. The sound of the bullets echoed in her mind again and she began to shake, uncontrollably.

A hand squeezed her arm gently and Christina shifted her head slightly, enough to see the blue eyes of the man who had taken her to the ground. Blue and reassuring. For the first time, Christina realized that although the man was holding her to the floor, there was no sign of a gun or anything else threatening about him. Christina offered a tentative smile.

The man smiled back.

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	2. Threatened

"How far did you say that corner store was from here?"

Jilly turned at the sound of Ashleigh's voice. "Three blocks, maybe four. Why?"

"Shouldn't Chris be back by now?"

"Not necessarily. That store can be insane, especially at this time of evening." Jilly grinned. "And it's not like she was going on horseback."

Both women burst out laughing.

In a more serious voice, Jilly added, "I'm just hoping Jethro won't call having to cancel again. Isolation isn't going to help him, no matter how much he thinks otherwise."

Ashleigh nodded. "How's he doing?"

Jilly shook her head. "Not well. And this new job doesn't help. The irregular hours and overtime just give him excuses to not have to come home to an empty house."

"Is he still sleeping on the sofa?" Jilly had called Ashleigh with the discovery the month before, crying almost too hard to talk.

Jilly bit her lip. "He hasn't said, but I have a feeling," she said softly. "He won't let anyone in, Ash, and it's just about killing me."

Ashleigh stepped forward to give her friend a hug. Jilly had always been close to her cousin's only child going back to the days when she babysat him as an infant back in Kentucky. She'd been thrilled when the Marines transferred him and his family out to California a few years earlier — the only extended family either Jilly or Craig had close by. Until the car crash, almost eight months before.

Now, although the physical distance remained close, the emotional distance might as well have had Jilly in Antarctica. After the deaths of his wife and daughter, Jethro had buried himself in his new job, a position in a federal law enforcement agency that meant getting a lot of lost-minute dinner cancellations under normal circumstances. It was no wonder why, after hearing he finally had an evening off, Jilly had made an exception to the all-girl weekend with Ashleigh and Christina and invited him over for dinner that night.

"You know, my offer for tonight still stands," Ashleigh said softly. "I can take Chris out shopping for the evening and give the two of you a chance to talk. We wouldn't mind." She pulled back from the hug long enough to look Jilly in the eye. "We can even take Allie with us." Allie was Jilly's nine-year-old daughter, currently upstairs in her room reading what her mother called, "Yet another one of my old Trixie Belden's that she found in the attic."

Jilly smiled and shook her head. "Thank you, but no, it's all right. Besides, I think the fact that I would have company and wouldn't be able to question him is part of what got Jethro to agree to come over tonight."

"Any luck with getting the guy extradited yet?" The fatal crash had been intentional, a way of silencing Jethro's wife Shannon after she witnessed a murder. Jilly snorted.

"No, and that's not helping things either. Something's got to give soon, Ashleigh." Jilly shook her head and repeated, "Something's got to give."

0

Several minutes had passed in the convenience store and the gunman still appeared not to have noticed the two people in the rear aisle. Jethro Gibbs breathed a silent prayer of thanksgiving and glanced down again at the teenager he'd taken to the floor.

She seemed a little calmer now. He regretted that he hadn't been able to say more to her and inadvertently added to her panic in the process. The look on her face when she risked a smile for the first time and the relief in her eyes when he returned it had told him everything he needed to know. Since then, he'd continued to give her a reassuring smile every so often, seeing in her eyes how that little gesture was helping to keep her calm. At least there was one thing he could do.

Gibbs wished he could say the same about the other hostage, the clerk up at the front of the store. The whole thing had a bitter irony to it.

He carried a weapon twenty hours out of every day. If this were one of those twenty hours, he'd have been able to probably diffuse the situation, or at least end it. Instead, it was one of the four hours of a day where he was as vulnerable as the rest of the community.

Vulnerable and worried. The whole thing was taking much longer than it should have. In theory, the clerk should have handed over the contents of the cash register by that point and the man would be gone, leaving the three of them to gather their scattered wits enough to make a coherent statement to the police. Instead, the clerk appeared to be stalling, no doubt having pushed one of the panic buttons some stores had now that would bring the police directly to the door in moments. It was a debatable course of action, one that could get the clerk, and possibly others, killed.

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Ashleigh happened to be facing the window when she saw it. A police car, tearing down the street but with no sign of lights or sirens. "What the Sam Hill?"

She put the carrot peeler down on the counter. "Hey, Jilly, come here."

The blonde woman joined her. "What is it?"

Ashleigh nodded in the direction of a second police car, also silently rounding the corner at the speed of light. "That."

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Gibbs could hear the sound of the rapidly accelerating tires and knew. Even without the presence of sirens, he knew. He took a deep breath and gave the girl's arm another squeeze.

She looked at him, no hint of smile on her face this time. He'd have given anything to be able to reassure her. Instead, he pressed her shoulder lightly with his arm and gave a barely perceptible nod.

The gunman heard the tires too as they advanced closer, probably into the parking lot. Steel work-boots cracked their way rapidly towards the counter. "What did you do?" the man screamed?"

"N…nothing…" the clerk stammered.

"You stupid…" The gunman didn't even finish his sentence before firing off two more shots. There was a moan and a muffled thud.

The young girl below him gave a muffled squeal and Gibbs quickly pressed his head to hers, hoping to muffle the sound, but it was too late. The steel boots cracked towards them. Gibbs had a brief moment to take in the gunman's physical characteristics before the sharp impact of the boot against his rib cage shoved Gibbs to the side.

The girl let out a shriek as the gunman yanked her to her feet, pressing the barrel of his gun tightly against her temple. The bell above the store entrance jingled and the gunman spun the two of them to face it.

"I've got a hostage!" The man's scream was frantic and desperate. "Come any closer and I'll kill the hostage!"


	3. Talking

**This Chapter also contains a minor spoiler for Wonder's Victory in the Thoroughbred series.**

"I don't like this." Ashleigh's breathing was rapid, like Wonder's the day of the Belmont. "I don't like this."

Jilly put a hand on her arm. "Ashleigh…" The younger woman spun around to face her.

"What direction is the convenience store?" Jilly hesitated. "Which way?"

"North." Jilly's voice was barely above a whisper. "The same way the police cars are going."

"I'm going down there." Ashleigh started towards the door.

Jilly nodded. "I'll come with you."

"What about Allie?"

"I'll drop her at the neighbor's. Mrs. Slager's watched her plenty of times — it won't be a problem. And I'll leave Jethro a note."

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"Step back out the door, or I blow her head off!"

_This can't be happening. _Tears streamed down Christina's cheeks. _I'm about to die._

"Now, sir." The young cop in the doorway was careful to keep his voice calm. Christina didn't dare look at him. "You don't want to..."

"DO IT!" The barrel of the gun pressed harder against Christina's temple and she closed her eyes.

"All right, I'm stepping out now. Just don't hurt her." Christina heard the door open and footsteps slowly back away. The gunman shoved her forward.

"Lock the door," he told her. He was still behind her, keeping her body between him and any police bullets as they walked forward, but at least the gun no longer pressed against her head. Christina opened her eyes and, with shaking hands, carefully turned the lock.

Immediately, the gunman grabbed her shoulder and yanked her back. With one arm wrapped around just below her chin and the other holding the gun inches from her hair, he backed the two of them up to the aisle where Christina and her rescuer had been hiding. Out of the corner of her eye, Christina could see him semi-sitting against one of the shelves.

"Get up." The gunman swung the weapon in the other man's direction.

"Okay." He got to his feet slowly and with difficulty, and Christina got her first good look at him. He was about six feet tall, probably 30 years old, with sandy brown hair and a face that, under any other circumstances, Christina would immediately characterize as drop-dead gorgeous. And the vivid blue eyes she'd noticed earlier, the ones that never left hers.

"This way." The gunman took another step back and pressed the gun against Christina's side. "Slowly, now. No sudden moves. Keep your hands where I can see them. One wrong move and the girl gets it."

They inched their way back until they reached the corner where the baked goods and coffee machines stood behind the cash register kiosk. An island counter stacked with display cases stood next to it, creating an effective barrier between them and the door. And between the two hostages and any hope of the police seeing them.

The gunman pulled Christina behind the shelves, then pointed the gun at his other hostage. "Sit down," he ordered. "Both of you."

Christina sat down against the counter, then reached out in an effort to help her injured rescuer. He smiled his thanks and, once seated, closed his hand over hers. Apparently satisfied, the gunman turned and walked the short distance to the end of the counter.

"You okay?" the sandy-haired man asked softly.

"Yeah," she answered. "You?" He nodded, and Christina jerked her head in the direction of the milk aisle. "Thanks for what you did back there."

"Welcome. Sorry I scared you." There was a hint of self-recrimination in his voice and Christina stared at him.

"You're not the one who came in here firing a gun," she pointed out. They both chuckled.

"There is that," the man admitted. He glanced beyond her in the direction of their captor, and Christina followed his gaze.

The gunman was pacing down the aisle, his back to them. From the look of things, he was more on edge than Christina was. She looked back at the man next to her.

"How long do you think it'll take before this moron lets us go?" she said quietly. The sandy-haired man looked over at her.

"What's your name?" he asked.

The question surprised her. "Christina," she replied. "Yours?"

"Gibbs. How old are you, Christina?"

"Almost fourteen," she said hesitantly. He smiled.

"Ah. So you've probably seen a couple movies about stuff like this. Probably ones your parents don't know you watched?"

Christina grinned sheepishly. "A couple," she admitted. Gibbs raised his eyebrows. "Okay, more than a couple."

"Which ones?" Gibbs prompted.

"Uh, _The Delta Force_, _The Chase_." Christina paused, trying to think. "One episode of _Counterstrike_."

"_The Delta Force_," Gibbs repeated. "A lot of people died on that one."

His eyes were on her, studying her. Christina took a deep breath and nodded. "I've been trying not to think about that," she whispered.

Gibbs smiled and put a comforting hand on her back. "This isn't _The Delta Force_, Christina," he said gently. "Don't worry." Christina managed a shaky smile as he lightly rubbed her back. "Don't worry."


	4. Tension

**I apologize for the lack of updates. I've been having some personal family stuff to deal with. Thankfully everything seems to be settling down and I should get back to something of a regular updating schedule again.**

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Gibbs stole another glance at the gunman, who was still pacing up and down the other aisle. He was walking in their direction now, his eyes riveted on the wall in front of him. Gibbs leaned over and rubbed his knee, then sat back. The gunman ignored him and turned to start walking in the other direction again. Gibbs waited as he walked the length of the aisle, turned, and started back towards the two hostages again. When he was almost at the end of the aisle, Gibbs brought his hand up to his mouth, bent forward and coughed.

"You okay?" Christina whispered from his other side. Gibbs nodded, watching out of the corner of his eye to see what the gunman's response was. He'd turned around again and was headed back down the aisle. Slowly, Gibbs straightened and offered a reassuring smile to Christina.

Her eyes were uncertain as she returned the smile. "What is it?"

"The air's a little dry," he answered in a low voice, not wanting to tell her what he was thinking.

She seemed to realize he wasn't telling her everything, because she asked, "What's wrong?"

Gibbs shook his head, then glanced back at the gunman. He had reached the other end of the aisle. "Just play along," he whispered. Christina nodded hesitantly.

"So, you're thirteen?" Gibbs asked, raising his voice loud enough for the gunman to hear as he came in their direction. Christina nodded again. "That means you're in what, eighth grade?"

"Ninth. My birthday is in December."

"Ah. Lots of homework?"

"Too much." Christina rolled her eyes. Gibbs chuckled, but his eyes never left the gunman. The man had avoided looking at them, particularly Christina, for the entire conversation. Gibbs swallowed, realizing his suspicions were confirmed. He had to get this girl out of here.

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"Look, I don't give a rip what your 'policy and procedures' are," Ashleigh informed the officer in front of her. "I want to know what you are doing exactly to get my daughter out of there."

"Ma'am, we're doing everything we can," the officer responded patiently. Ashleigh snorted.

"Oh really? Well, I haven't seen you 'do' much of anything. You haven't even tried to call to negotiate."

"We're giving him time to start thinking this through. We're not going to get anywhere as long as he's wound up like this," the officer explained. Ashleigh closed her eyes, fighting back the obscenities she wanted to scream.

"Time? Officer, what makes you think my daughter has any time left?"

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"So you moved up to training level two years ago?"

Christina nodded. For the last twenty minutes Gibbs had been asking her stuff about her life almost non-stop. She wasn't sure why, but it helped a little to keep her mind off what was happening. "Almost two years. I just finished my first full season at that level."

He smiled at her. "How'd you like it?"

"Oh, it's great, just like I thought it would be." She tilted her head slightly. "Have you ever been horseback riding, Gibbs?"

He drew in a quick breath and glanced over at the counter in front of them. "A couple of times," he said quietly. "A long time ago."

The phone rang just then, startling both of them as well as the gunman. He whirled around, swinging his weapon, and Christina felt Gibbs shoving her to the floor again as another shot rang out.

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	5. Trust

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The echo of the shot penetrated through the store walls into the parking lot outside. Immediately the officers stiffened and a few grabbed their weapons. Ashleigh, who'd been standing silently, staring at the store windows, whirled around and grabbed the nearest police officer.

"What the Sam Hill was that?"

"Ma'am, just try and stay calm—"

"That was a gunshot. Wasn't it?"

"Ma'am..."

"Please!" Ashleigh screamed. "Don't lie to me!"

The officer stared at her for a moment, then slowly nodded, sympathy in his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Christina." Ashleigh clapped a hand to her mouth and closed her eyes. "Christina!"

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Christina lay silently, her eyes closed, not daring to move or breathe as she braced herself for another shot. When she didn't hear anything she still remained motionless, her mind racing in a frantic repetition of _Please God_. Finally she mustered up enough courage to opened her eyes. And saw the small puddle of blood on the floor beside her.

"Oh..." Christina felt her entire body beginning to shake. "Oh...no."

"Christina!" Gibbs' hands were on her shoulders, then her back, checking. "Are you hit?"

"Um..." Christina mentally searched her body for anything that hurt. She could feel a little bit of pain from where she'd hit the floor, but nothing that hurt as bad as a bullet should. Unless she was in shock...

Gibbs quickly turned her over, then gave a sigh of relief. "Thank God, you're all right," he said in a strained voice.

Christina looked up at him and caught sight of the red spot on the side of his shirt, just below his ribcage. She glanced quickly at the puddle of blood, then scrambled into a sitting position. "Lean back against the cupboard," she ordered, placing one hand just behind his shoulder to assist him. His ID slid from his pocket as she did so, falling a little ways open. Christina caught sight of the card as she reached to pick it up and momentarily froze. Forcing herself not to look over her shoulder she leaned forward, placing her knee on the ID to block it from the gunman's view, and reached out to apply pressure to the bleeding.

Gibbs winced at the touch and she looked up. "Sorry."

He shook his head, managing a quick smile, then looked over at the gunman, who was standing behind her. "You know, I think that was supposed to be the call where the police try and negotiate," he said wryly.

Christina rolled her eyes. "This jerk's not going to negotiate," she muttered under her breath.

"SHUT UP!" the gunman screamed. Christina wasn't sure whether the comment was directed at her or Gibbs, but her nerves snapped. She glared at him.

"Well, it's true, isn't it?" she asked. "You're not going to let us go."

Gibbs reached a hand out and touched her arm. "Christina..."

"He's already killed one person, that kid behind the counter." She glanced up at the gunman. "_Kid_, as in barely out of high school."

"You think I wanted to shoot him?" the gunman snapped.

Christina rolled her eyes. "Well there sure wasn't anyone holding a gun to _your_ head, was there?"

"Listen, you don't know anything about my life!" he informed her, before turning and stalking angrily down the aisle.

"What makes you think I'd want to know?" Christina muttered as she turned back to Gibbs.

He lightly touched her arm. "Try not to antagonize him," he said gently. Christina met his gaze, then surreptitiously pulled the ID out from under her knee and placed it in his hand.

"This fell from your pocket," she said quietly.

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Gibbs' stomach tightened and he glanced quickly over to make sure the gunman wasn't watching, before quickly slipping the ID back into the pocket of his jeans. Then he looked back at Christina. Her eyes were locked on his.

"You saw it?" he asked in a low voice. She nodded.

"Tell me the truth." Christina met his gaze unflinchingly. "He's not going to let us go, is he?"


	6. Trouble

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"I can't get this bleeding to stop."

Christina's voice sounded stressed and she inadvertently pressed harder on the wound. Gibbs tried not to flinch at the touch, but he couldn't keep a slight moan back and she grimaced. "Sorry."

"No, it's all right." He tried to smile at her and she rolled her eyes.

"No it isn't." She glanced back down at the blood that was still seeping through her fingers. "You know what, forget this. Can you keep pressure on it for a minute?"

"Sure. What are you thinking?" Gibbs asked.

"There's got to be a First Aid aisle in this place. I'll pay them later for it if I have to, but I'm sure the owners will understand in the meantime." Gibbs nodded and quickly put his hands over the bullet wound as Christina stood up. The gunman immediately stalked over in their direction.

"Sit down!" he ordered.

"I need to get some bandages from the First Aid aisle." Christina tried to keep her voice calm. "I can't stop the bleeding."

"Forget it," the man retorted.

"What if he bleeds to death?" Christina took a chance and looked the man in the eye. "I promise, I'll show you everything I bring back or you can grab it and give it to me. But please let me help him."

There was a long silence. Finally the gunman muttered, "The first aid stuff's in the second aisle."

Christina smiled at him. "Thank you."

"Just a first aid kid and bandages though. And remember, you try anything..." He pointed the gun directly at her forehead. "I'll be watching you."

Christina swallowed and nodded, before walking slowly in the direction of the second aisle.

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Ashleigh and Jilly were sitting on the tailgate of one of the police SUVs when the shout came.

"We've got some type of movement going on in the store!"

The two former jockeys exchanged looks before scrambling to their feet and moving to where they could see for themselves. Immediately a police officer was at their side, keeping them from moving too far past the safety of the vehicles. However the position left them a clear view of the front window of the convenience store, and the young girl who'd come into view. Ashleigh drew in a sharp breath.

"Chris!" From what she could tell, there were no signs that her daughter was injured, but she seemed to be walking slowly and shot frequent glances behind her. After walking a short distance forward she turned down one of the aisles and studied the contents, before picking something red up and holding it above the aisle. A second later, she did the same thing again with a white object. Then she turned and started walking back in the direction she'd come from.

Suddenly she staggered, and Ashleigh grabbed Jilly's arm. A few feet away from the women, three police officers tightened their grip on their weapons. Inside the store Christina seemed to catch her footing again and glanced quickly over her shoulder towards the emergency vehicles in the parking lot. Then she turned and stepped behind the view of the shelf.

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Inside the store, the man immediately grabbed her arm. "What just happened?"

"N-nothing," Christina stammered. The gunman gripped her shoulder tighter and gave it a little shake.

"Did you just signal someone out there?" She shook her head quickly.

"No, of course not. I just got a little lightheaded." The man shot her a suspicious glance but let go of her arm and gestured to the first aid kits and boxes of gauze she was holding.

"Give me those."

Christina handed them to him silently and he quickly ripped them open. He grabbed the scissors from the first aid kit and tossed them towards the front of the store, then handed the rest back to her. "Go."

**I know, this is short, but this seemed like the logical place to but a chapter break in. More coming soon.**


	7. Time

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Ashleigh turned away in frustration from where she'd been watching through the window and stalked around the vehicle and over to where the officer in charge of the situation was standing, conferring with a group of police officers.

"I want to know what you're doing to resolve this." Her voice was clipped, but calm.

The lead investigator sighed. "Ma'am..."

"Don't 'ma'am' me! My daughter has been in there for nearly two hours. Did you see her when she came walking out from behind the counters?"

The investigator nodded. "Yes we did, but..."

"She staggered, Officer. As she was turning around, she lost her balance. For all I know, that bastard in there..." Ashleigh clapped one hand to her mouth, unable to complete the sentence. The officer put an understanding hand on her arm, but she shrugged it off. "Now why aren't you people doing anything to communicate with him?"

"Mrs...Reese, is it?" Ashleigh nodded and the officer continued, "Mrs. Reese, we have been trying to contact the gunman. He is simply not answering the phone."

"So now what?" Ashleigh just looked at him. "You've got to have some type of a Plan B in one of your 'hostage negotiation manuals' and training that you people take for when something like this happens. What do you do next?"

The officer sighed again. "Mrs. Reese..."

"Answer the question, Officer. What is your plan now to get my daughter out of there?"

The officer hesitated and Ashleigh glanced around in frustration. A man in black with a sniper rifle caught her eye and she gasped, before grabbing the arm of the officer next to her.

"You're going to shoot him." The officer didn't say anything and Ashleigh angrily gave his arm a shake. "You're going to kill that gunman." She shook her head. "And what about my daughter? And the who knows how many other innocent hostages he has in there?"

"Ma'am, I can assure you, taking down the shooter with violence is a last resort," the officer told her. "But yes, if he does move into an available position-with none of the hostages nearby, then yes, we are seriously looking at that as a possibility."

"Oh, that's just great," Ashleigh retorted. "And what if there is a hostage nearby when the shooter is in position?"

"We are going to continue to try and negotiate first, Mrs. Reese." Ashleigh just glared at him before walking back to where she had been standing before. And started to pray.

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Gibbs watched as Christina approached him with the First Aid equipment and shook his head, smiling in disbelief. There was no two ways about it, she was made of some strong stuff. She'd listened to everything he'd said without a word, as he laid it out for her. How the police probably wouldn't be able to negotiate with the gunmen given the circumstances. The tactics the police would probably take instead. What he'd need her to do if that happened. She'd listened to it all before nodding, and telling him with no uncertainty that she would do whatever she had to.

When this was all over, he wanted to talk with her parents, and tell them just how courageous of a young woman they had raised.

Christina reached his side and bent down, then glanced briefly over her shoulder. The gunman had started his pace down the aisle again. Gibbs followed her gaze, then looked back into her eyes. "Any problems?"

She shook her head. "Not really." She opened the box of four-inch gauze squares and pulled out a good two inches worth, then took a deep breath. "Okay. Pull your hand away and let me have a look."

Gibbs gave her a little grin. "You know, you don't have to look. I can take care of it," he told her.

She shrugged. "I grew up on a farm. Worked around horses, seen a lot of stuff. How much worse can it be?" Gibbs chuckled.

"If you're sure." Christina nodded and he carefully pulled his hand away, then lifted the shirt up enough to see the wound, before glancing quickly at Christina's face to see how she was doing. She swallowed and went a shade paler, but firmly held the gauze out.

"Okay, I think this is going to hurt."

"I'll be all right." Gibbs studied her. "Are you sure you're going to be okay?"

Christina nodded before gingerly pressing the gauze against the bleeding. Gibbs did his best to hide his wince from her as she looked up. "If you can hold that in place, I'm going to grab some more, just in case that's not enough."

Gibbs held the gauze in place before nodding to the first aid kit. "There should be some triangular bandages in there. Try a few of them instead, they're thicker." She nodded and grabbed a few of them and firmly packed them on top of the gauze.

"Good. That should stop it," Gibbs said. "Now, grab the last triangular bandage and unfold it so that it's about four inches wide, and long enough to tie around."

"Right." She quickly unfolded it, then placed the center of it over the bandages covering Gibbs' gunshot wound. "Hold that?" He nodded and she carefully brought one end around behind him, while bringing the other to his uninjured side to tie off. "Okay, tell me if I get this too tight."

Gibbs let her tighten it enough to hold the packing in place before nodding. "That's good. Thank you." He waited until she finished tying the double knot and tucking the ends in, then remarked, "Good job."

"Thanks." Her voice sounded slightly short of breath and she leaned forward slightly.

Gibbs put a hand on her arm. "Christina? You okay?"

"I...I'm just a little woozy," she answered. She took another deep breath and sighed. "Whoa."

"Here, sit down, sit down." He guided her to a spot next to him against the counter. "Lean back. There."

"What's going on?" The gunman had come over and was glaring at them. "Now what?"

"She just got a little dizzy, that's all," Gibbs answered steadily.

"More than a little." Christina closed her eyes. "I don't feel very good."

The gunman turned a panicked look towards Gibbs. "What's happening, what's wrong with her?"

"I don't know." Gibbs kept his voice level and turned to see Christina's face. "Christina, tell me what you're feeling. Sick to your stomach?"

"Yeah, and weak." Her voice was slightly labored. "Really shaky."

"Okay, let's get you lying down." Gibbs kept his voice calm as he helped her ease into a lying position with her head on his knees. "There. That better?"

"Not really." She took a deep breath, then another. Gibbs gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"Guess the blood was a little too much after all," he teased gently. Christina managed a small shake of her head.

"No, that's not it." She grimaced. "Whoa, shouldn't have done that." Her voice shook slightly and Gibbs swallowed.

"Christina?" His voice was soft. "What's happening.

"I-I'm...I'm diabetic."

Her voice was barely audible, but Gibbs heard it. He sighed.

"What, what is it?" the gunman demanded. Gibbs looked up at him.

"She's diabetic," he said tersely.

"What, so she needs a candy bar?" the gunman asked. "Some juice or something, what?"

"Not unless you want to put me into a coma." Christina sounded like she was struggling with the words. "I was just diagnosed...they're still trying to get my insulin levels figured out. They said...any improv like that...and I'm..." Her voice trailed off.

The gunman turned away in frustration. "Oh, that's just great. Just freakin' terrific!"

"Hey, I don't think she exactly came down here planning to get sick," Gibbs snapped. "She figured she'd be back home within a little while and able to take her insulin and eat a real meal."

The gunman reached out and shoved at a wooden rack of health bars sitting on the counter, knocking it to the floor with a crash. Both Gibbs and Christina flinched. The gunman ignored them and stalked angrily back down the aisle.

"What, so you're just going to do nothing?" Gibbs yelled after him. "Just let her die?"

The gunman whirled and glared at him. "What do you expect me to do?" he retorted.

"Send her for medical help," Gibbs replied. The gunman walked rapidly over so that he was standing over the two hostages.

"Neither of you are going anywhere!" he screamed. Gibbs felt Christina flinch and he gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. "When are you guys going to get that?"

"Then get the police to bring insulin and drop it off at the door." Gibbs forced his voice to remain steady. "I'll bring it in."

The gunman gave him a skeptical look and Gibbs met his eyes. "It'll go a long way towards a gesture of good faith from you, maybe buy you some time."

The gunman sighed and started pacing down the aisle again. Gibbs looked back down at Christina, who was lying motionless, her eyes closed. Gently he rubbed her arm. "It's going to be all right."

Suddenly the gunman was standing over him again. "Get up," he ordered.

Gibbs looked up at him. "Why?"

The gunman pressed the gun to Gibbs' temple. "Just do it!"

"Okay." Gibbs carefully eased Christina's head off his lap before slowly getting to his feet. "I'm getting up."

"Start walking towards the phone," the gunman ordered. "And don't try anything."

0

"Still no sign of Jethro?" Jilly stood at a payphone, a few feet away from Ashleigh, talking with her neighbor.

"No, he hasn't come by yet," Mrs. Slager replied. "And I tried his home number that you gave me, and there's no answer."

"Terrific," Jilly muttered. "Just freaking' terrific."

"How are things going there?" Mrs. Slager asked. Jilly sighed.

"About the same. And we could use Jethro down here, the police aren't being exactly forthcoming with us."

Just then she heard one of the officers yell, "We've got movement again!"

"Mrs. Slager, I'm going to have to call you back. They've got movement inside the store." Jilly quickly hung up and rushed back over towards Ashleigh. "What's going on?"

Ashleigh nodded in the direction of the store window. "The gunman's coming forward with another hostage."

"They're coming up to the phone," the investigator in charge shouted. "Quick, dial the number again."

Jilly watched the gunman and his hostage move slowly forward. The hostage appeared to be injured and was walking ahead of the gunman. As he got closer she got a better look at his face and gasped.

"Oh, I don't freaking believe this."

0

Gibbs winced as the gunman jabbed the gun into his as-yet uninjured side. "Answer it."

Slowly Gibbs picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"This is Officer McCarthy. Who am I speaking with?"

"This is Jethro Gibbs. I'm...a...one of the hostages."

"Can I speak with the gunman?"

Gibbs glanced over at the gunman and offered the phone. The other man angrily shook his head before jabbing him with the gun again.

"Uh, it looks like he'd prefer that I speak with you for the time being, Officer," Gibbs answered.

"Tell him about the girl!" the gunman said in a low growl.

"He wants me to tell you that there is a thirteen-year-old girl in here who is diabetic and needs her insulin. She is in the verge of going into a diabetic coma," Gibbs said clearly. There was a gasp on the other end of the phone.

"Ask him if he'll send the girl out."

"Uh, I have, Officer," Gibbs replied. "He's very insistent that neither of us leave. He wants you to bring the insulin prescription to the entrance and leave it on the sidewalk."

Officer McCarthy sighed. "Do you know the girl's name?"

"Yes, sir, it's Christina Reese. She and her mother Ashleigh are visiting a Jill and Craig Avery."

"Tell him they've got..." the gunman paused. "How long before she passes out or something?"

Gibbs tried to remember the diabetics he'd worked with in the past. "Uh, an hour, maybe two?" he said hesitantly.

"Tell that officer they have an hour and after that, you're both dead."

"Mr. Gibbs, are you still there?" Officer McCarthy questioned.

"Yes, Officer. He's just asked me to tell you that you have one hour and after that, he is going to kill both of us." The gunman hung up before Gibbs could say another word.

0

"How much time left is there?" Christina whispered.

Gibbs glanced down at his watch. "A half hour," he said quietly, not wanting to remind the gunman. She swallowed.

"I'm not sure I'm going to make it that long, Gibbs."

Gibbs squeezed her arm. "You're going to make it, Christina."

"I don't know..." her voice trailed off and her eyes closed. Quickly he shook her arm.

"Christina? Christina, can you hear me?" He shook her arm again. "Christina!" There was no response and Gibbs carefully edged her head down so that she was lying flat on the floor, then leaned over to check for breathing.

The gunman rushed up. "What's happening?" Gibbs looked up at him.

"She's stopped breathing," he said tersely. "I'm going to need your help with CPR." The gunman just stared at him and Gibbs exploded, "You really think you've got hope of getting out of this if she dies?"

"Okay." The gunman swallowed and knelt down next to Christina's body. "What do you want me to do?"

"Find the bottom of the ribcage and trace it up with one finger to the center," Gibbs told him, using his left hand to double-check Christina's throat for a pulse. "When you find it, go two fingers up and place one hand on her chest, then put your other hand on top and interlock your fingers."

The gunman placed the gun down next to him and nervously ran a finger up to check for the ribs, then put his other hand down on Christina's chest. Gibbs waited until the man's fingers were interlocked, then grabbed the wooden shelf that had fallen earlier and swung it as hard as he could against the gunman's skull.

The gunman let out a strangled cry and slumped forward over Christina's legs. Almost immediately he shifted to his back and groped dazedly for his weapon. Gibbs kicked the gun down the aisle with his foot and straddled the gunman, who attempted a couple of half-hearted hits towards Gibbs' gunshot wound. Ignoring the sudden jab of pain, Gibbs leaned over and carefully squeezed the pressure point between the gunman's neck and shoulder. The man struggled for a couple more seconds before both hands fell to his side as he lost consciousness.

Satisfied the man was incapacitated, at least for the time being, Gibbs took a deep breath and turned his attention to where Christina lay motionless on the floor.


	8. Thanksgiving

"Christina?" The thirteen-year-old felt a hand against her shoulder and she opened her eyes to see Gibbs smiling down at her. She smiled back.

"Is it safe?" Gibbs chuckled.

"You bet. Come on, let's get you out of here."

Christina quickly scrambled to her feet, ignoring the unconscious gunman lying a few feet away, then looked around. "What about his gun?"

Gibbs nodded down the aisle. "I kicked it down that way. We'll let the police secure it." Christina nodded, then reached down a hand to help Gibbs up. He staggered and she immediately wrapped an arm around his uninjured side, letting him lean on her.

"You know, if you ever decide to retire from horseback riding, you would make a great actress," Gibbs remarked as the walked towards the door. Christina laughed.

"You were pretty convincing too. Almost had me convinced I was dying." Gibbs chuckled again and Christina bit her lip. "Seriously, Gibbs, you saved our lives in there. Thank you."

Gibbs looked over at her and smiled. "I'd say we both saved each other, so thank you, too," he replied.

She flushed, before acknowledging his words with a shy smile. "You're welcome."

Gibbs nodded at the door. "Better put your hand up," he said, pulling out his ID and holding it in the air. Christina nodded and did so, before unlocking and pushing open the door.

"Federal agent!" Gibbs called out. "Special Agent Jethro Gibbs, NCIS. The gunman's inside, unconscious and disarmed. Weapon's on the floor down the last aisle."

"Christina!" Before she could react to the shout she was being pulled into her mother's tight embrace. "Oh, thank God."

"Mom." The emotions of the past few hours began to hit and Christina felt her shoulders start to shake uncontrollably.

"Quick, quick, get her down!" One of the police officers and her mother helped her into a sitting position, leaning against the wall. "Can we get a medic over here please?"

"Easy, Chris." She was half aware of Gibbs' calm voice talking to her and the gentle hand he put on her other shoulder. Breathing had suddenly become very difficult and someone pushed her head forward between her knees. Voices swarmed around her, including Gibbs again, saying to someone, "She's not diabetic. That was something I'd told the gunman when I was trying to subdue him."

That made enough of an impression on Christina enough for her to look up. "Gibbs is...though...hurt," she managed to gasp out.

"Easy, don't try and talk," Ashleigh said softly as an EMT knelt in front of her.

"Christina, I'm just going to give you some oxygen, all right?" She nodded and a mask was slipped over her face. "Now I want you to try and take a deep breath and hold it in for a minute, okay? Now let it out. Good. Let's try that again."

She wasn't sure how much longer it was before her breathing finally slowed to something resembling normal and both the EMT and Ashleigh's faces relaxed into smiles. Christina pulled the mask from her face.

"Where's Gibbs?" Ashleigh nodded towards Christina's left.

Gibbs was semi-sitting on a gurney a few feet away. He too had an oxygen mask on as well as an IV drip in his arm, and his side had been freshly bandaged. Jilly was standing next to the gurney, one hand protectively on his shoulder and she looked like she was about to cry. Christina looked back at her mother in confusion. "They know each other?"

Ashleigh chuckled and reached to smooth back her daughter's hair. "Chris, that's Jethro Gibbs, Jilly's cousin's son. The one who was going to have supper with us tonight."

0

It was almost noon the next day when Christina pushed open the door of Gibbs' hospital room. Jilly had just slipped downstairs, promising to try and bring up some type of contraband for lunch.

"Christina, hi." Gibbs smiled and nodded towards the second chair next to the windowsill. "It's good to see you. Come on in."

Hesitantly, the 13-year-old sat down. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, fair-to-middlin'," he reassured her. He studied her face, trying to gage her state of mind. She was smiling, but there was still a level of tension in her eyes. "What about you? How are you doing?"

"Well, they stabled my insulin levels," she joked. Gibbs chuckled, then did his best to cover the wince of pain the action produced. Christina's face sobered. "Seriously, I'm all right. Thanks to you."

"I thought we went through that yesterday," he prodded gently. Christina nodded sheepishly. "Jilly just slipped downstairs to grab us something to eat, she'll be right back."

"I still can't believe that that was you who was supposed to be coming over for dinner," Christina told him.

Gibbs shrugged, grinning. "Yeah, well, I was pretty surprised too when you told me who your Mom was. I remember her and Jilly walking me around the racetracks and the farm around the time they were training Wonder."

Christina gasped. "You're kidding."

"Nope. In fact Jilly's got a photo your Mom took of Jilly and I sitting on Wonder's back. There's one of me with your Mom, too."

The young girl shook her head. "Wow."

A burst of laughter came from behind the curtain, as one of Gibbs' visitor's roommates told a joke. It seemed to startle Christina out of her memories and she looked up at him.

"Gibbs, yesterday..." He tilted his head and looked at her and she smiled slightly. "I know." She took a deep breath. "I would have fallen apart in there if it hadn't been for you. You...you kept me together. Thank you."

Gibbs just stared at her, not sure what to say. His mind flashed back to seeing Christina's eyes as the gunman held his weapon against her temple, fired off the shots, asked him if they were going to really make it out. He'd felt so helpless, unable to do anything but sit there and try and keep her mind off the situation. And yet somehow, it had been—if not enough—something that had made a difference.

"You're welcome," he answered quietly. He could see her eyes beginning to glisten with tears, and he smiled. "Come here."

She stood up and approached and Gibbs put his arm around her in a gentle hug, his own eyes stinging with tears. He'd been right in the convenience store. She really was something else.

There was another laugh from the other side of the curtain. "You said he was wearing what?"

THE END


End file.
